Guardian
by Flynne
Summary: His city and his family are crumbling around him, but Raphael hasn't forgotten her. Set in the 2k3 "Same as it Never Was" universe.
1. Chapter 1

_Mrs. Morrison is from the 2k3 Season 3 episode, "Touch and Go". _

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Guardian, Part 1

The soup on the stove had nearly begun to boil when the quiet but firm knock thumped against Dorothy Morrison's front door. She hesitated, unsure if she should answer, but after a moment she switched off the gas burner and made her way across her apartment to lean against her door. "Yes? Who is it?" she called.

A familiar baritone voice rumbled through the door. "It's me, Mrs. M. Raphael."

"Raphael!" A bright smile lit her face and she hurried to unlock the door. "Come in, dear!" she said, stepping aside so he could enter. "Oh, I'm so glad to see you. It's been months! I've been worried about you."

"Yeah…I know it's been a while. Sorry about that. I was out of town."

She could tell that there was a lot he left unsaid in his reluctant reply, but she didn't call him on it. Instead she waved her hand toward the kitchen and said, "I was in the middle of making dinner. Would you like some tomato soup? Or some tea?"

"Tea's fine, thanks," he answered.

Mrs. Morrison turned and headed back to the kitchen. She didn't hear him following her - she never did - but she knew he was behind her, and she heard the scraping of the chair over the linoleum floor as he sat at her small kitchen table.

"I'll just be a moment," she told him. She started warming the soup again and put the kettle on.

A rusty-sounding ___miaow_ broke the silence. Mrs. Morrison smiled as she pictured Lucy awakening from where she had been curled in her basket. The cat would stretch herself - a bit stiffly now, her old joints not quite so limber any more - and trot soundlessly over to the table. Sure enough, Raphael's gentle chuckle reached Mrs. Morrison's ears, and she heard his quiet, "Hey, there's my girl," as the white cat hopped into his lap. The quiet thrum of her purr filled the small kitchen.

"Your shelves are kind of empty, Mrs. M.," Raphael said in a low voice.

She paused in stirring the soup, remembering with some embarrassment that she had left the pantry door open. "Yes, well…the grocer's delivery boy hasn't been able to come for the past couple weeks."

"Why?" She could hear the frown in his voice.

"Well, the neighborhood isn't as safe as it was in the past. It's not as safe as it was even last year. I suspect the poor boy was mugged, or perhaps he wasn't allowed to pass. The gangs have gotten pretty aggressive. Here, and in other neighborhoods. Things in New York are changing."

Changing how, she wasn't quite sure. But there was an undercurrent of tension running through the streets like exposed wire. It crackled in the voices of the newscasters every evening. The news didn't really give much information, but the terse tones of the anchors were real - not the feigned urgency they used to speak about the ducklings stuck in the storm drain or the broken water main on 5th. This was real anxiety. The whole city was on edge.

"Didn't you call the store and let them know nobody showed?" Raphael asked.

"Of course, and they apologized…"

"..but still no delivery," he finished darkly.

"I'm afraid not."

Raphael growled a little under his breath. "I'm sorry," he said again. "I wish I could've been here to keep the goons out of the neighborhood, but…I couldn't."

The anger and regret tangled around his words sent a surge of worry coursing through Mrs. Morrison. Something had changed. Something had deeply wounded her friend in the year he had been gone. The cheerful whistle of the tea kettle seemed out of place in the quiet kitchen. She took just a moment to pour her heated soup into a bowl and carry the tea things to the table, then sat down and folded her hands on the age-worn wooden surface and asked very gently, "Raphael. Are you all right, dear?"

Utter silence greeted her. She couldn't even hear him breathing. Then, very softly, he replied, "No."

She pushed aside her bowl of soup and leaned towards him. "What's happened?"

Another long pause. "One of my brothers is missing," he said. He spoke quietly, but the soul-deep ache in his words came through as strongly as if he were screaming. "Next week will be a year since he disappeared. That's why I stopped comin' by. We've been trying to find him, looking everywhere, but nobody knows what happened to him. He's just…___gone_, and then…" His words ground to a halt, but he took a shuddering breath and forced himself to go on. "…five months after we lost him, my kid brother got hurt. Real bad. We had to get away, it wasn't safe for us. Someone we know has a place in the country, so we left the city and took him there so he could recover. And then we come back and everything's just…"

"Oh, Raphael, I'm so sorry," Mrs. Morrison said. She lifted a hand and half-reached for him, but checked her movement and folded her hands tightly together instead. "You shouldn't apologize for being gone," she told him. "Your family is more important. I'm a tough old bird and I've managed on my own for quite a while."

"Yeah, well, I'm back now," he said firmly. She frowned a little at the guilt that still lingered in his voice, but there was stubbornness there, too. It saddened her to know that he wasn't going to let go of the responsibility that he'd taken up by keeping an eye out for her (and for the city, too, she supposed); but in the stubbornness, there was strength, and she knew her friend wouldn't let the guilt drag him down.

"And I'm very glad you are," she said with a smile.

Raphael sighed. She heard the soft _clink_ as he set his teacup back in the saucer. "I hate to drink and run," he said reluctantly, "but I gotta go. I wanted to stop in and check on you." ___And it's a good thing I did__,_ he didn't say - but she heard it all the same, and it warmed her heart.

"It was good to see you," she said. "Thank you for coming by."

"It was good to see you, too," he said sincerely. His chair scraped over the floor again as he stood. Lucy mewed a little peevishly, annoyed at losing the warm lap she'd been curled against.

Mrs. Morrison opened the door for him, feeling the slight displacement of air as he stepped past her into the gathering dusk. The sharp sound of breaking glass and resulting ___whoop-whoop_ of a car alarm echoed through the streets a few blocks away, and her hand tightened on the cool metal doorknob. "Be safe," she said, the earnest words escaping before she could stop them.

"You know me," he answered. She smiled fondly, her heart lifting when he promised, "I'll come by again soon."

"Goodbye," she said, but she knew he was gone, and her words drifted out into an empty alley. She sighed a little and reluctantly closed the door, but just knowing that her friend was back was enough to chase away the chill of isolation that had settled over her during the past twelve months.

Later that night, when a quiet knock sounded at her door once again, she knew what she'd find even before she answered it. The alley was deserted, but two full boxes of groceries lay at her feet.


	2. Chapter 2

_A lot of the details about where the turtles went and when they left/came back to New York are borrowed from some awesome "Same as it Never Was" headcanons from Skitsmix. _:D

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Guardian, Part 2

The soft but insistent patting of small paws against her cheek pulled Mrs. Morrison from slumber. She pushed Lucy away from her face and rolled over with a moan. "Lu, what do you want?" she asked sleepily. "I know I filled your bowl before I went to bed."

"Mew!"

The sound of someone knocking at her door caused the fog of sleep to lift and she sat up in bed, heart skipping uneasily. She groped for the alarm clock on her nightstand and pressed the button. A calm, efficient voice said, "3:57 AM".

"Now, who in the world…?" But she knew the answer. After six months of steady visits every fortnight, Raphael had once again inexplicably dropped out of sight. She hadn't heard a whisper from him in three months, but no one else would be showing up on her doorstep. She hastily smoothed her flyaway hair into a bun and pulled on her robe before hurrying to the door.

Still, before answering, she took the precaution of calling through the door: "Raphael? Is that you?"

"It's me," came the immediate reply. He slipped inside as quickly as he could, pacing uneasily as she locked the door behind him. "I'm real sorry to get you out of bed," he apologized, "but this couldn't wait. A lot of bad stuff has happened and…"

She'd never heard him so upset. "What's wrong?" she asked anxiously. Her heart sank as she heard him make the choked sound of someone fighting back tears..

"My dad died three months ago," he hoarsely. "I - I never told you this, but my family, we know who's behind all the crime in the city and we tried to stop it, but - " His words stumbled to a halt and she heard him breathing heavily through his gritted teeth. "___Dammit_," he hissed.

"Oh, my dear," she said softly. She took a step towards him but felt him retreat, and instead of hugging him she had to settle for folding her arms tightly across her chest. "What happened?"

"It's - it's a long story," he said. His voice was rough but steady. "Not a lot of people know it, but I've gotta tell you. I came because you're not safe. We've got to leave."

"Leave?" she repeated, baffled. _"We?"_

"You and me. As soon as we can. If you wanna come with me."

"I…" She stood there, helplessly, in the dark both literally and figuratively. "Come into the kitchen," she said finally. "I'll put the coffee on and you can tell me everything."

She felt an odd sense of calm as she moved about. She knew that she should be suspicious, even afraid, but Raphael had never inspired those feelings in her, no matter how mysterious he was. So in spite of the uneasy pounding of her heart and the overwhelming sense of grief buffeting her in waves from Raphael, her hands were steady.

It hadn't escaped her that Raphael hadn't turned on the lights. She often moved about her apartment without using the lamps, but most of the time Raphael would switch them on as he moved throughout her home. Today, he didn't.

"There you go," she said, setting a steaming mug in front of him. She sat down and curled her hands around her own cup of coffee. "Tell me everything," she said gently.

He took a deep breath. "Okay. Well…see, there's this race of aliens that's been on this planet for a really long time and…aw man, I'm doin' this wrong. This just sounds weird."

Mrs. Morrison hesitated, the question hanging on the end of her tongue before she decided to ask, "Are the aliens like you?"

She couldn't see his face, but she could feel the weight of his astonished stare. "What?" he stammered. "You know?"

"Oh, my dear boy, I have known since the very first day you showed up at my door. I took you by the arm to guide you inside, remember?"

"But…you didn't scream. You didn't say anything. You've ___never_ said anything."

She smiled at him. "I don't need vision to know a good soul when I see one. And you needed help - those thugs were chasing you." Her smile took on a mischievous slant as she finished, "Besides, I could tell you were strong, and I _did_ need help moving those boxes. So I put you to work."

The stunned silence was broken by Raphael's deep chuckle. It was a reluctant laugh and sounded rusty from disuse, but a laugh all the same. "I've been underestimating you, Mrs. M.".

"You certainly have. I trust you know better now," she said, hiding her smug little grin behind her coffee cup. All too soon, though, the light moment passed, and she could feel Raphael's bleak mood begin gathering once again. "Well? Go on with your story," she prompted, anxious to keep him from sinking deeper into his sorrow.

"All right." She heard the chair beneath him creak as he settled in. "First thing you need to know is that I'm not an alien. I'm a turtle."

Her brows jumped toward her hairline. "A turtle?"

"Yup. Granted, a really big mutant turtle who happens to be a ninja, but a turtle. Born and raised here in the Big Apple."

She took a moment to process this revelation, then nodded once. "All right. Turtle, not alien. Go on, dear."

Raphael went on. Mrs. Morrison listened. She listened as Raphael told her the truth about his family. He told her about his father, Splinter, and his brothers, Leonardo, Michelangelo, and the still-missing Donatello. He told her about April, their sister-of-the-heart, and her husband Casey. He told her about the past decade of his life spent defending the city against the Purple Dragons, invading Triceratons, and the Foot Clan. He told her about the anguished search for Donatello; about the terrible days when Michelangelo was captured by the Foot Clan and feared dead. He told her how they'd won him back, alive but changed forever both in body and spirit.

Mrs. Morrison didn't say a word. She simply sat there, heart breaking for Raphael and his family as she felt the pain bleeding through into his voice.

"That's when we went to Casey's place in the country," Raphael said. "I dunno, maybe we should have stayed, but we had to get Mikey out of the city. We were gonna need a lot of medical supplies to take care of him, and the Foot knew it. We're ninjas - we're good at moving around undetected - but so are they. They might be able to track us that way. And…we just needed to get out and clear our heads. You've never met Mikey, you don't know what it was like seein' him like that…"

He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. "Anyway, you know we came back to the city earlier this year. But then three months ago the Foot attacked our lair. I don't know how they found us, but they did. We've had close calls before, but…this was bad." Despite his stubborn stoicism, she could hear his voice beginning to shake.

"They had us. I mean…they had us. Mikey was down. I had to get him out - you wouldn't believe how hard he's worked, how much he can do with just one arm, but there were too many of 'em. And I couldn't…" He made that heartwrenching choking sound again but kept talking, words spilling out in a disjointed rush. "Master Splinter told us to get out. Said he'd hold 'em off and catch up with us later. I got Mikey out - he didn't wanna go, but they'd got him real good in the head and he could hardly see straight, let alone fight. I tried to go back for Sensei, but Leo…"

Mrs. Morrison jumped as his heavy fist pounded the tabletop. "I ___told_ Leo we shouldn't go, but…he grabbed me and pulled me away, and then Master Splinter grabbed a grenade and took out a Foot mech and the whole roof fell in." His voice broke apart, and she heard his shuddering breaths as he shook with silent tears. "I ___told_ Leo we should've stayed, but he wouldn't listen to me, he ___never_ listens, and now…"

Mrs. Morrison had the sudden feeling that Raphael had forgotten she was there. The uncharacteristic bitterness in his words saddened and frightened her. She paused just a moment before clearing her throat and venturing, "Raphael?"

She felt the table jerk at his abrupt movement. He inhaled shakily, reining in his grief. "I'm sorry," he said dejectedly. "I shouldn't've…"

"Raphael, don't apologize," she said gently. "I'm your friend. You don't need to hold things back from me. Although…I don't want to overstep my bounds, but…your brother, Leonardo…"

"What about him?" came the gruff response.

He sounded angry, but she knew it wasn't directed at her and she wasn't intimidated. "I don't know if anything could have been different during the attack on your home. We'll never know. But you've told me a lot about your brothers over the years - more than you realize, I think." She smiled sadly. "Remember what I told you about being able to know a good soul? I've never met your brother, but I know in my heart that he has a good soul, and he did what he had to do; what your father asked him to do. And…I think you know it, too. You're going to mourn your father for a long time. But don't let your grief come between you and a brother that I can tell you love very much. "

Raphael was silent for a long moment. "I know," he admitted softly.

"So where have you and your brothers been staying these past few months?"

"Actually, that's what I came to talk to you about." He deliberately shut the emotion out of his voice as he remembered himself. "We got intel that the Shredder is going to start moving into neighborhoods, taking some sort of census and rounding up everyone who lives there. And he's coming here."

Her heart gave a frightened skip in her chest. "What should I do?"

"Come with me," he answered. "That's why I came so early. You had to know about us - about what was happening in the city. If the Shredder moves in here, I don't know if I'll be able to get back. And I don't know what would happen to you. I talked with Leo and Mikey, and we think you should come stay with us. April and Casey found a place where we can stay, where we can recruit others to fight against him. And this way…I know you'll be okay. Aw, shell, please don't cry, I didn't want to scare you," he said with sudden awkwardness, seeing the tears welling up in her eyes.

"Oh, my dear, I'm not afraid," she said, laughing at his flustered tone in spite of her tears. "Well, perhaps I am, just a little. But not because of you. It'll be hard to leave my home, but I trust you. I don't want to be here when this Shredder comes. And…I will be very glad to be surrounded by family again," she added, giving him a fond little smile. She dried her eyes on the sleeve of her robe and gathered herself. "When do we leave?" she asked briskly.

"Soon as you're packed," he said. "We really can't wait." He pushed back from the table and stood. "Miss Lucy got a bag I can pack while you get your things?"

"You remembered Lucy," she said with a grateful, relieved smile.

He chuckled. "'Course I did. I'm used to moving with a cat. Now go on, get your stuff."

She hopped up from the table and hurried to get cleaned up and dressed, then retrieved her barely-used suitcase from the place at the back of her closet. Now that it came down to it, she felt a bit flustered and lost, trying to decide what to pack, but Raphael helped prompt her.

"You're awfully good at this," she said with an anxious laugh.

"I've moved around a lot," he said drily. "Besides, April might've given me some ideas of what to suggest for you to pack."

More quickly than Mrs. Morrison thought possible, her bag was packed. Raphael had somehow coaxed Lucy into her carrier and already had the long carrying strap draped across his body. Lucy mewed a little at first, but his movements were smooth and didn't jostle her, and she soon settled quietly. Raphael handed Mrs. Morrison the small kit of cat supplies he had packed and picked up her suitcase. She followed him to the front room, pulse racing with fear and excitement as she heard him unlock the door. The streets outside were utterly silent, but it wasn't the quiet peace of pre-dawn. Even to her limited perception of the world, it felt oppressive, as if a great hammer were hovering over the city, about to crash down.

"Okay, coast is clear," he said in a low voice. "Come on."

She reached out to him, and for the first time, he wrapped his large hand around hers. The skin beneath her fingers had a curiously nubbly texture. It was very smooth, except for where hard calluses marred the palm and three thick fingers. She thought could feel scars there, too.

It was a very alien hand. But his grip was warm and strong, and it sent a surge of confidence spiraling through her, quieting the anxious fluttering in her stomach. He tugged gently on her hand and she left her home behind, following him trustingly into the dark.


	3. Chapter 3

Guardian, Part 3

"Mrs. M, can we come in?"

Mrs. Morrison looked over to her half-open doorway and smiled at the eager young voice that reached her ears.

"Of course, dear." She set aside the half-finished scarf she was crocheting and waved the little girl in. "Are you with Michelangelo?"

"As always," Michelangelo said cheerfully. "Shadow thought you might like to join us for story time."

"I'd love to," she replied.

Shadow Jones came bouncing into the room, and Mrs. Morrison felt her mattress dip as the almost-five-year-old sat next to her on the bed. "Are you feeling better today?"

"Yes," she answered truthfully, although she was careful to keep her voice low. Putting too much force behind her words was likely to trigger a painful coughing spell. Breathing still took an unusual amount of effort, as if a weight were pressing on her chest, but she felt better than she had in several days.

"Shadow, hop down a sec so I can fix her pillows," Michelangelo said. "I'm just a little to your left, Mrs. M."

She reached out until her hand came to rest on a muscular, scarred shoulder. Her fingers traveled back to curl around the solid edge of Michelangelo's shell, and she used the support to pull herself forward so he could reach behind her to fluff and straighten the flattened pillows.

"There. Better?" he asked.

She let go of him and leaned back, adjusting her position so she was sitting more upright in bed. "Yes, thank you," she smiled.

The springs creaked in the battered but still-comfortable recliner next to her bed as Michelangelo flopped down. Shadow climbed up into the turtle's lap.

"We're reading ___The Princess and the Goblin_, Mrs. M," she said. "Uncle Raph found the book and gave it to Mommy last week. We already started it, though."

"Well, don't worry, I know that story," Mrs. Morrison said. "Just pick up where you left off."

"Awesome," Mikey said. "Okay, Shadow, where were we? I think we got interrupted in the middle of a chapter, didn't we? Remember to hold your half of the book, okay? All right, here we go." Pages rustled and he cleared his throat dramatically, then began to read. ___"Suddenly the shadow of a great mountain peak came up from behind, and shot in front of them. When the nurse saw it, she started and shook, and catching hold of the princess's hand turned and began to run down the hill._

_'____What's all the haste, nursie?' asked Irene, running alongside of her._

_'____We must not be out a moment longer'."_

Michelangelo was an enthusiastic reader, and Mrs. Morrison couldn't keep from grinning as he kept going. When he got to the part where Curdie entered the story, singing to chase the goblins away, Michelangelo sang too, making up melodies for the silly lyrics to make Shadow laugh.

A soft step in the hallway and a gentle knock at the door cut in to the story. "Pardon me, am I interrupting?"

"Oh, hey, Doc!" Michelangelo said. "Nah, come on in."

"Just came to check on my patient. How are you feeling, Dorothy?"

"A little better today, actually." Mrs. Morrison sat patiently while Dr. Prasad took her pulse and temperature before taking out a stethoscope to listen to her take a few breaths.

"Well, I can't say I'm pleased you decided to turn the flu into pneumonia, but luckily you don't sound any worse," Prasad said after a few minutes. "I wish you sounded better, though."

A flu bug had recently passed through the closely-quartered resistance fighters. Most had fought off the virus quickly, but Mrs. Morrison had yet to recover.

"Well, I feel a bit better today, at any rate."

"I'm glad to hear it," the doctor said warmly, but Mrs. Morrison could hear the underlying note of worry in her voice.

"Hey, Doc! Where are you?" A fond smile curved Mrs. Morrison's mouth as she heard the familiar deep rumble of Raphael's voice in the hallway. "Doc, you down there?" His hand slapped against the door to shove it open. "Hey, Mrs. M," he said. "Doc, is this the medicine you wanted?"

"I - yes," Prasad said, stunned. "Yes, but you - "

"Uncle Raph, what happened? Are you okay?" Shadow asked in a small voice.

"Hey, Short Stuff," Raphael said, voice softening. "I just had an errand to run, that's all." His footsteps were inaudible as he moved, but Mrs. Morrison felt his powerful bulk crossing the room to stand next to the bed "How you doin'?" he asked.

"I'm fine, dear," she answered, but her brow creased in worry. The heavy smell of smoke clung to him; and beneath the scorched smell was another scent that had become all-too-familiar to her in the three years she'd spent living with the resistance. She could smell blood. "You're hurt," she said, distressed.

"Nah, it's nothin."

There was the sound of a rattling and a pop as Dr. Prasad opened the bottle of antibiotics that Raphael had brought her. "Here you go, Dorothy." The doctor placed two oblong tablets into Mrs. Morrison's palm.

"Uncle Raph, is that Daddy's shirt?" Shadow asked hesitantly.

"Um - yeah," the turtle admitted. "Your dad was nice enough to use his shirt to wrap up my arm. He's okay, though. He went to get cleaned up and, uh, get another shirt."

"Let me see, Dude," Michelangelo said, rising from the chair. There was a brief moment of silence as he untied the torn strips of t-shirt and peeled them away from the wound. "Well, you don't do anything halfway," he said lightly. "If I didn't know better, Raphie-boy, I'd think you were trying to compete with me for the Sexiest Scar award. I'd quit trying if I were you. You'll never win." Shadow giggled, and Mrs. Morrison could practically ___hear_ Raphael rolling his eyes.

Michelangelo's gentle teasing couldn't erase the little troubled frown on her face, though. "Raphael," she said in a low voice, "you and Casey went out to get medicine for me?"

"Yeah, so?" His defensive reply held a combination of stone and softness that was uniquely his, and it quenched any sort of objections - ___you shouldn't have risked yourself like that, not for me, your brothers need you, the resistance needs you _- that she might have offered.

Instead, she smiled, and reached out her hand. "Thank you, my dear." His large hand engulfed hers - his skin was cold from the outside air and gritty with what she assumed was soot, but it sent a burst of warmth through her all the same.

The clomping of heavy boots in the hall announced Casey's approach. "Raph, you still in there?"

"Daddy!" The recliner creaked ominously as Shadow launched herself off Michelangelo's lap.

Casey's let out playfully exaggerated "Oof!" as he caught his flying daughter and blew a raspberry against the side of her neck, making her squeal. "Hey, kiddo! Doc, I'm sorry," he said, turning to address Prasad. "I told Raph he should get cleaned up before he went lookin' for you, but you know him."

"Yes, I do," she answered wryly, but Mrs. Morrison could hear the smile in her voice. "In all seriousness, Raphael, you really should get that cut cleaned. And you're going to need stitches."

"I can take care of it," Michelangelo volunteered. "Casey, you wanna take over book duty?"

"Sure."

There was a brief bustle of activity as Casey and Shadow settled in the recliner while Dr. Prasad brought Michelangelo the supplies he'd need. Raphael and Michelangelo settled on the floor next to the bed.

"Okay, Raph, if you sit still and are really good, I'll give you a lollipop when I'm done." ___Thwack!_ "Ow! Dude, I am your surgeon. Smacking me in the head is not a good idea. You might give me a concussion and then I might stitch something into your arm that says 'I love kitties'."

"Mikey, will you just get started?" Raph growled. Shadow laughed and Michelangelo snickered, but there were no more wisecracks and the brothers fell silent as he began cleaning Raphael's wound.

Mrs. Morrison leaned back against her pillows and closed her eyes, listening as Casey opened the book and started to read where Michelangelo left off. Despite the chaos that had engulfed the world, she was grateful for moments like this. It did her heart good to know that there were some things the Shredder's evil couldn't touch.

She drifted off to sleep to the sound of Casey reading, and dreamed of the defeat of the goblin king.


	4. Chapter 4

_Final part of this story! HUGE thanks to Skitsmix, who was a fantastic beta reader and who made awesome suggestions for how it could be improved! This chapter wouldn't have been complete without their help. And there would have been a lot of typos. _:)

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**Part 4**

The quiet knock at the door dragged April protestingly from sleep. She wondered if just this once she could pull the pillow over her head and pretend she didn't hear.

Casey stirred next to her and groaned into his pillow. "Whuzzat?"

The knock came again, and she could hear Michelangelo calling softly through the door. "April? Casey? I'm really sorry, but you need to wake up, guys."

The strained tone of his voice chased away the clinging shadows of sleep. She hopped out of bed and hurried to the door, nearly tripping over the boots that Casey had left on the rug.

Mikey looked up at her when she opened the door, utterly wretched. The hollow look in his eyes sent her heart plummeting to her feet. "What's wrong?" she forced out.

"Mrs. M. died last night."

"Oh, no." Her hand tightened on the doorknob, blanching her knuckles as tears burned her eyes.

"Raph and Leo are with her." He looked away, swallowing convulsively as his breath hitched. "You guys should come," he said hoarsely.

"We'll be right there." April roused Casey and hurried to dress. She pulled her hair into a quick ponytail while he stomped into his boots. When she opened the door again, she saw that Michelangelo was still waiting in the hall. She gave him a brief little side hug before the three of them made their way to Mrs. Morrison's room. As they walked, she took Casey by the hand and held it tightly, grateful for his solid strength.

Raphael was sitting on the edge of the mattress, gently holding the old woman's hand. His amber eyes were bright with tears and his mask was slowly turning dark beneath his eyes as his sorrow spilled over. Leo stood beside him, resting a hand on his brother's solid shoulder.

"Oh, Raph, I'm so sorry," April said tearfully.

"She told me where her husband is buried," Raph said dully. "I think if we plan it right, we can take her there and bury her with him."

Leo nodded, hand tightening on Raph's shoulder. "I'll make sure we do."

"I don't understand," Raph said, voice breaking. "I got her the medicine. She was getting better. She was really good the past few days."

Leo sighed sadly. "I'm sorry, Raph," he said softly. "I don't know, maybe there wasn't anything we could have done. Maybe it was just her time."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Raph said harshly. He started out low and gained volume as he went on. "'Just her time'? Why, because she was old? So that makes it okay? Was it just ___Splinter's_ time?" April gasped softly. The temperature in the room seemed to plummet, Raphael's bitter words hanging in the air like spears of ice.

Leo's hand slid away from Raph's shoulder and he stepped back, bewildered and hurt. "Raph, I…I didn't mean…"

Raphael ducked his head and lurched to his feet, shoving past Leo and bulling his way out the door. The silence he left behind was cold and hard, freezing them all in place and stifling any attempt to call after him.

Casey was the first to move. He let out a long sigh, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "I'll go talk to him."

April gave her husband a grateful look as he ducked out the door, then crossed the room to stand next to Leo, putting her arm around his shoulders. "Raph's grieving," she said gently. "It doesn't excuse what he said, but he didn't mean it. You know that."

"It was a stupid thing for me to say," Leo answered dejectedly. "I don't know what I was thinking. But I guess I shouldn't be surprised. I haven't been much use to my brothers for a while, now."

"Stop it, Leo." Mike's voice was quiet, but no less forceful. "That's not true. I've told you, you can't keep talking like that."

Leo didn't seem to hear. Very gently, he reached up and removed April's arm from around his shoulders, pressing her hand briefly between both of his in a silent apology before turning his face away and slipping silently out the door. He wasn't quick enough to keep her from seeing the tears that he was fighting to hold in.

A smothering silence fell. April blinked back tears of her own as she gazed upon the peaceful, laughter-lined face on the pillow. Mrs. Morrison had only been with them a few years, but her sweet, calming presence had been a blessing in the middle of a war that was rapidly engulfing the planet in chaos.

"I - I don't know how I'm going to tell Shadow," she said, starting to cry.

Michelangelo crossed the room and wrapped his arm around her, hugging her tightly. "You'll tell her the same way you always do," he said quietly.

April clung to her friend and allowed herself to cry. Shadow was a bright, happy little girl in spite of the loss that surrounded her, but April couldn't fight the fear that one day there would be one loss too many, and the cheerful spark in her daughter's eyes would be extinguished forever.

Michelangelo let her hold on for a few minutes until she'd calmed herself. She gave him a sheepish look as she took a step back and palmed her tears away, but he just smiled a little and shifted his hold on her, keeping a brotherly arm around her shoulders as she leaned against his side.

They stood there in silence for a while. It was still too early for the morning routine of the base to disturb the quiet, but April knew that all too soon, the day would start and the world would move on with one less soul to warm it.

A soft sound from the doorway made her look up to see Casey and Raphael standing in the hall. The anger was gone from Raph's face, leaving only guilt and sorrow behind. He stepped into the room, making eye contact with both her and Mike as he said very quietly, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't've…Splinter and Mrs. M. wouldn't want me to be like that."

Mikey gave April a final pat on the back before releasing her, stepping over to punch his brother lightly on the arm. "It's okay, bro," he said, giving Raph a spare but genuine smile.

"I'm gonna sit with her just a little longer," Raph said. He lowered himself carefully to the edge of the mattress, turning his body sideways to face the head of the bed. "Stick around?" he asked over his shoulder.

Mikey's eyes softened. "Yeah." He sat on the edge of the bed behind Raph, leaning his right shoulder up against his brother's carapace. "You know," he ventured quietly, looking down at the patch of floor between his feet, "you really should track Leo down, sooner rather than later. He was pretty shook up."

"I know," Raph said grudgingly. "Don't worry, Mikey, I'll talk to him. And apologize. Again." He frowned. "I just hope he listens to me this time."

"Dude, I know ___that_ feeling," Mike muttered, not quite under his breath.

April's brow furrowed a little, troubled by the uncharacteristic undertone of resentment in his voice, but Raphael didn't say anything in reply.

Casey came up beside her and opened his arms, pulling her tightly against his chest. She curled gratefully into his embrace and hid her face against his shirt, imagining that she could shut out everything and not have to deal with the world around her for just a little while…

But then she felt him sigh. "The kiddo's up," he said quietly.

She sighed too and nodded. "Okay. Come on, we should go talk to her." She looked back over to the pair of brothers. "We'll be back soon, guys." Mike gave her a little wave in response as they headed out the door.

Casey's arm settled heavily around her shoulders as they walked, and she wrapped her arm around his waist and gave him a squeeze. "You're a miracle worker."

Casey chuckled a little, but the troubled shadow didn't leave his eyes. "I dunno. I got Raph to come back, but he wouldn't talk to me about what happened with Leo this time like he usually does."

"He'll come around," April said, trying to smile. "It's Raph. He always does."

"Yeah, I know. It's just I ain't seen him like this for such a long time before. Leo, neither. I mean…you know they've butted heads all the time since they were kids, but they've always made up real quick and moved on. But now its like…it takes 'em longer to cool down, and the way they fight…that was a low blow, Raph bringin' Splinter into it. He felt bad about it even before I called him on it, but…he still said it. The arguments are startin' to feel ___mean_ now. It didn't used to be like that."

"I've noticed," April said. "And I think Leo and Raph have noticed, too. They're just…lost, and this war hasn't given them any time to find themselves again. But they're brothers, and they need each other. They won't forget that."

Casey tried to smile down at her. "If you believe it, I believe it."

"I ___do_ believe it," she said fiercely. She didn't voice the uncertain ___"I have to"_ that lurked in the back of her mind, but the look Casey gave her told her that he'd heard it all the same. The world around her had changed beyond recognition, and she was beginning to fear that her family would do the same. That fear had been creeping up on her from the very first day everything had seemed to go wrong; the day Donatello disappeared, the pebble falling in the pond that sent ripples of change spreading unstoppably outwards. And the world had moved on.

"I can't believe anything else," she said softly. "Casey, I think the guys are starting to be afraid that they're losing each other. And if that's true, I don't think they know how to stop it. So…so I can't even let myself believe it could be a possibility. ___They_might not believe in themselves any more, but I ___do_. I won't let that change."

Casey held her a little closer. "Well, with you in their corner, they're gonna be fine. There's always, hope, right?"

"Yes, Casey," she said, leaning her head against his shoulder as they walked. "There's always hope. No matter what."

Outside the compound, dawn broke. The red sun climbed into the sky, and the world moved on.


End file.
